


Bind me

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Binding magic, Complete, Curses, Derek Has Feelings, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Stiles has feelings, Swearing, Witch Curses, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following two prompts:</p><p>AU in which Derek & Stiles are magically bound to each other, so whatever happens to one happens to the other.<br/>I would want this because Derek would be forced to LOOK AFTER HIMSELF because if he doesn’t, Stiles gets hurt too and suddenly, for the first time in his life he realizes putting himself first and keeping himself safe can be what protects others.</p><p>...</p><p>After Stiles saves a witch's life, Derek and Stiles are accidentally hexed by her, and whatever happens to one happens to the other. Which means Derek has to be careful and look after himself, and by proxy, Stiles too.</p><p>Then the witch returns to retrieve her miscast hex - in the most brutal way possible - and Stiles wishes that he had let Derek kill her after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bind me

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the thing, wanted the thing, so I wrote the thing...
> 
> Warnings: dubious consent, masturbation (because what else would Stiles do when faced with this sort of spell?), and lots of swearing
> 
> Based on [this Tumblr post](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/85399821487/kellifer-k-devildoll)

"I'm not all-knowing, and without the exact translation of the spell, I could hurt one of you - both of you. And since no one can agree on what the witch hexed you with, you will simply have to wait until I can narrow the list by the ingredients you found at the warehouse," Deaton added, looking between Stiles and Derek coolly.

Derek glowered and Stiles muttered something obscene under his breath.

"Fine, but I'm not happy about this," Stiles said, looking at Derek as if it's his fault they got hexed by the witch (who'd conveniently disappeared in a literal cloud of smoke soon afterwards; Stiles didn't want to admit to it, but he liked her style).

"It's not my fault!"

"You tried to kill her!" Stiles exclaimed.

"You shouldn't have jumped in front of me!" Derek bit out, glaring again.

Stiles didn't have a chance to answer because Derek turned and punched the wall in a fit of anger. Stiles let out a scream of pain, Derek turning abruptly, thinking he'd done something, only to see Stiles cradling his hand that was bleeding from his knuckles.

"WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE?!"

"Hmm, well that reduces the kind of spells considerably," Deaton murmured, looking between them curiously. "Derek, there's a first aid kit by the door, patch Stiles' hand up. I'll be right back," he said, leaving them without a choice in the matter.

Derek stood there for a moment, staring at Stiles' hand and then looking to his own. He didn't have a thing to show for his outburst, but that was normal. Stiles whimpered as he tried to move his fingers, prompting Derek to get the first aid box as Deaton had instructed. They were both quiet as Derek put antiseptic on Stiles' wounds, and cleaned the blood away before he wrapped his knuckles carefully. Derek felt like he should apologise, though he wasn't sure why or what for, so he stayed silent instead, very determinedly not looking at Stiles as they waited for Deaton to return.

"After what I just witnessed, I think this is the hex she used on you," Deaton said, placing an old leather-bound book on the table between them.

"A binding spell?" Stiles said, frowning.

"Physical manifestation of a binding spell. She must have been interrupted, because it's not the complete spell. See, the end here? It's meant to be a soul-binding spell, but what's happened to you doesn't seem to be that. Do you mind if I test a theory?" Deaton asked, pulling a packaged needle out from his workstation.

"Whoa, no. Nope, I'm fine. I believe you, no testing needed!" Stiles said quickly.

Derek rolled his eyes and held out his arm.

"Actually, I'd prefer to check on Stiles to ensure it works both ways," Deaton said, sounding apologetic as he looked at Stiles again.

"Oh, fine. But... be gentle, all right?" Stiles muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as he thrust out his arm.

Deaton unwrapped the sterile needle, carefully took hold of Stiles' arm and pricked his skin. Derek let out a hiss as the sharp feeling echoed in his own arm, and he rubbed at the spot with a frown, seeing a small hole. Deaton ignored his noise, gave Stiles' shoulder a pat so he would open his eyes again, and disposed of the needle before looking at them again.

"That is very interesting. You both seem to be experiencing the other's pain. It should wear off, but I would suggest that you both take it easy until it does wear off. Come back on Saturday and I'll see how you're progressing," Deaton said, turning his attention back to the book.

"That's it? Just wait until it wears off?" Stiles asked incredulously.

Derek couldn't help but agree.

"For now, yes. It should wear off within a week, maybe longer depending on the strength of the witch. Even if it doesn't, I don't have the necessary ingredients handy to reverse this kind of binding. It will take time to procure them, and then there's the timing of the moon to consider as well," Deaton added. He saw their blank expressions. "You were hexed on the night of the full moon, that means you have to wait until the next full moon to reverse the binding if it doesn't wear off first."

They waited for more, anything, but Deaton had seemingly dismissed them, and there was nothing they could do but leave.

"Well, this sucks," Stiles muttered as they made their way to his Jeep.

For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Derek found himself agreeing with Stiles.

...

 _Wait until it wears off_ , Stiles thought to himself sarcastically.  _Fuck, this was absolute **shit.**  He'd seen the way Derek fought, and he was probably going to end up impaled on something sharp by the end of the week!_

The idea of dying did  **not**  appeal to Stiles at all, not after everything he'd done to survive this long. He contemplated sending Derek a list of Things Not To Do While We Are Stuck Like This. Speaking of, Deaton had only tested their ability for feeling each other's pain.  _But what about pleasure?_  Stiles wondered, smirking.  _Well, there was only one way to find out, obviously. It was for science_ , he reasoned to himself, already slipping his uninjured hand down his pants to stroke his fattening dick. Thank god he was ambidextrous.

Surviving the monster of the week usually had Stiles going enough that he barely had to do anything before he was coming, purely grateful that he was alive and could still hit it off. This time, however, he wanted it to last (no matter if Derek would feel it or not, there were times when a guy just needed to go slow) so Stiles went through the motions of ensuring his door and windows were locked, found his stash of lube and pulled out his favourite toy. He stripped down, shivering in the cool air, and slid under his blankets, rubbing his limbs to get them warm again.

When he felt warm enough, Stiles slowed his hands to lingering caresses, his fingertips light against his ribs, thighs, nipples. He briefly wondered if Derek was feeling this too, or if it would take something more intense. He liked the idea of Derek being in the room with him, watching him as he masturbated and affected both of them, with or without this binding hex.

His now-hard dick gave a twitch of interest against his stomach at the thought. Stiles bit his bottom lip as he stroked himself, his dry palm and the bandages dragging and creating friction that made his hips cant up for more. He forced his hips back down and let go of his dick, fumbling for the lube. It was cold on his hand, but Stiles was warm enough not to care, and took time to slick his dick up before he let his fingers slide down further, past his balls to to his hole. He circled it gently, imagining Derek feeling this like he was, and responding. (Derek would probably be growling and trying to fight the feeling, not even trying to enjoy what Stiles was doing here. Such a sourwolf.)

Stiles rubbed his hole and stroked his dick, letting his hips move to whatever position felt comfortable. He could put a spare pillow under his legs, but that would involve moving his hands away from his body, so  _hell no_  to that. Stiles slowly slid his finger into his ass as he squeezed his dick, a low moan escaping at the feeling. He vaguely heard his phone vibrating with a phone call, but yeah, not happening. Stiles pretended not to hear it, and continued thrusting into his hands.

By the time he felt comfortable enough for a second finger (which meant he'd be able to use his vibrator), Stiles thought that he felt other feelings responding to his own. (He sure as fuck didn't feel embarrassed about this, so it  _had_  to be Derek. Unless Stiles was suddenly developing a sex conscience, and if he was -  _worst timing **ever!**_ ) But he could have been imagining the feelings because he wanted Derek to be feeling this too, to have something good in the sourwolf's life for once ('cause Stiles was nice like that, really), and besides, he was only a few more minutes away from coming, and there was no point stopping before his grand finale. He kicked his blankets off, panting hard and eyes closed tightly as he thrust up into his hand and slid his ass down onto his vibrator.

Stiles let out a groan as he imagined Derek in his apartment, lying on his bed naked and writhing to these feelings, to  _Stiles_  giving him these feelings, even though he wasn't touching himself. He wondered if he could make Derek come without the werewolf doing anything himself. Stiles let out another groan, his hips rising higher and his vibrator hitting his prostate.  _That's the spot_ , he thought, his other hand tighter around his cock. (He thought he could feel the rapid pounding of another heart, the lightheadedness of a different orgasm ripping through him, albeit faintly, and Stiles shuddered as he barely managed to hold his own back.) He kept riding his toy through the echo of the orgasm and as all feeling of it faded, Stiles let himself cum too, spurts of white landing on his stomach and chest. His toes tingled, and he wasn't sure if that was himself or Derek, but it was a nice feeling anyway.

Stiles felt around for tissues to clean up with and his hand hit his phone. He turned it on, the pale light washing over his pale skin, and saw he had a few messages and a missed phone call.

_Stiles, what are you doing?_ _You can't really be doing this right now!_

_Of course you are._ _Did you even think of anyone other than yourself before you did this?_

_Fuck, Stiles! You ... fuck fuck fuck. Fuck_.

Missed call:  _Stiles, you fucking little fuck. I don't... Why? Oh, fuck, you're enjoying this, aren't you, you fucking wanker? Literally! Fuck, oh, fuck, fuck me, **oh fuuuck**_ **.**

The call cut off abruptly with something that sounded like a howl (or possibly Derek swearing at him some more, Stiles didn't quite know).

 _Fuck you, Zbiegniew Stilinski_.

 _Huh, how did Derek know his name?_  Stiles wondered in surprise. He shrugged and used the phone's light to find tissues to clean his stomach properly.

When he was clean, Stiles tugged on a pair of briefs with his uninjured hand, his bandaged hand starting to throb in pain now that he'd used it too much. He pulled his blanket up over his ears and settled down to sleep, trying to ignore the dull ache in his hand. He received a text a few minutes later, Stiles blinking in surprise to look at his screen.

 _Sorry about your hand. Take something for it to ease the pain. Idiot_.

_Go to sleep, sourwolf._

...

Derek knew exactly what Stiles was doing the second he felt a ghost of a hand along his cock. He knew that Stiles was probably trying to provoke a reaction from him, so he very firmly didn't give one. He continued with his workout and ignored the feeling of a long-fingered hand wrapped around his cock. Not happening, it wasn't happening. Still, he sent a text to Stiles hoping to get him to stop. He didn't reply and the feelings didn't stop, so that was that. He would just ignore it and keep doing his chin-ups. Stiles was still a teenager (for three more months) and probably hadn't thought about this sort of thing, binding hex or not.

Still, the finger he felt pressing against his ass hole was enough to make Derek drop to the ground in surprise and he sent another text. A little sharper than he was intending, but Stiles wasn't the one with the finger ...  _actually, he was. Never mind that_. Stiles seemed to be enjoying himself, at least, and Derek didn't want to ruin that for him.

He let out a sharp gasp as he felt something larger slide up into his ass.  _Oh, fuck no. Fuck no, fuck him, the little fuck. He was... Oh, fuck_. Derek hadn't done anything like this in  _years_ , and he could feel every inch of pleasure that Stiles was getting from it. The horny little fuck probably did this three times a day, every day of the week, and Derek felt guilty about imagining that. He managed to get his phone (how he ended up on his hands and knees, he'd never be sure), and he called Stiles desperately.

It went to message bank, and while Derek had planned on leaving something coherent, Stiles changed settings on his vibrator and what came out of Derek's mouth was a long chorus of fuck instead (fuck you, fuck that, fuck this, fuck him, fuck _fuck_ fuck). Derek managed to hang up as he felt his orgasm breaking over him, and he hadn't even done anything, but he was still exhausted, lying on the concrete floor of his loft and feeling thoroughly fucked. He sent another message as he felt Stiles' orgasm follow on the heels of his own, revealing that he knew the horny bastard's first name.

He tugged off his sweatpants and threw them in the direction of his laundry, trudging over to his bed and flopping onto the mattress, naked. He would have fallen asleep immediately if not for a throbbing pain in his hand that he attributed to Stiles' injured hand. Derek felt guilty all over again, and sent a message to tell him to take pain medication for it, for Stiles' sake as much as his own.

 _Go to sleep, sourwolf_  was the response, and he refused to admit smiling at that before he tugged his blanket over his bare body and fell asleep.

...

"Derek, you have to stay here with Stiles. We can't have both of you in danger," Scott said, sounding apologetic as he looked between them.

"I can't just sit here and wait! I'm one of the best fighters you've got!" Derek snarled.

Beside him, Stiles snorted. "And so modest, too. Welcome to the club, dude. You're not hurting a hair on your - and by extension, my - head, got it?"

"But, I... Fine!" he snapped when he realised that no one would take his side. It's not like he wanted to hunt the chupacabra anyway.

Stiles was silent as he watched Scott, Isaac, Peter, and Ethan head for the forest at a run. Allison and Lydia took the car to circle around and make sure the creature stayed in the forest.

"Look, I know you're disappointed, but this thing is dangerous. I'm even worried about Scott as Alpha. There's not enough information about chupacabras to know what their weak spot is, even in the bestiary," Stiles said, chewing at his hoodie string. He looked at Derek in surprise. "You didn't say anything about bestiality."

"No, why would I?" Derek asked in confusion.

"Both Scott and Allison thought of it when I said bestiary, and I swear, that's way more than I wanted to know about the inner workings of either one of their minds," Stiles muttered, shaking his head.

"So... What do you usually do when you're left behind?" Derek asked.

"Wait for everyone to get back; I usually pace a lot. Or try to read, but I find it difficult to keep still. I mean, I don't know what's going on out there, and most of the time, I end up sneaking out after you all anyway. It's handy to have a human on board, okay?"

Derek just raised an eyebrow at him and folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, don't give me that look. And don't even try sneaking out of here; you're not allowed to hurt yourself!"

Derek let his arms fall to his sides a moment later, and he looked at Stiles properly for the first time since  _That Night With The Vibrator_. He'd tried to be really careful, but he lapsed sometimes - being born a wolf meant he didn't have to worry about bruises from knocking into tables or chairs, or nicks from shaving, or even the jarring motion of jumping from his front porch onto the front yard below. While Stiles no longer had the bandage on his hand, Derek could see a couple of bruises on his shins, a few razor blade nicks on his jawline, and he'd been walking a bit stiffly earlier too.

 _Fuck_ , Derek realised,  _he was going to end up killing Stiles just because he was living_.

"What are you doing? What's with the guilt thing?" Stiles asked abruptly, glowering at him.

"Nothing. I just... I'm not doing a good job of this," he muttered.

"Of what? Waiting?"

"No, of taking care of myself. I mean, I don't feel much if I do it to myself, but then I can see it on you, and..."

"Oh, shut up. You've walked into every solid thing possible in the last week, so what? We're both still alive, and I'm counting that as a plus at the end of every day. Besides, I'm not a stranger to walking into things myself, or falling over things. The shaving bit was new, though. These motherfuckers sting like nothing else," Stiles muttered, brushing his fingers over the small nicks on his jaw gently.

Derek resolved to let his beard grow out until this was fixed. He stood up to head to the kitchen, and Stiles frowned after him.

"What are you doing?"

"If I sit there any more, I'm just going to run out after them. So, I'm going to cook dinner for everyone instead."

"You can cook?" Stiles asked in surprise.

"Yeah, can you?"

"Yeah, some meals. Mostly healthy stuff 'cause of Dad, but I make a mean plate of nachos. There's a trick to the cheese, y'know," Stiles said, standing and following him quickly.

"Maybe you can show me one day; we don't have anything for nachos now," Derek said.

"I can do that, sure," Stiles said, grinning. "You've got enough for meatloaf, what about that?"

"That's healthy?" Derek snorted, taking the mince out of the freezer anyway.

"Homemade's healthier than some of the things Dad'd buy otherwise. Besides, the meat part keeps him from complaining about all the veggies I pack it with," Stiles added with a smirk.

"Good idea," Derek replied. "Here, you can get the eggs and breadcrumbs ready. I'll work on the sauce."

It wasn't exactly what he'd planned for his night, but this was a good thing, Derek decided. He couldn't take care of his pack outside in the forest, but he could make sure they would be cared for when they came home. Besides, it was worth it to ensure that he wouldn't be hurting Stiles.

...

The pack came back to the house almost two and a half hours later, talking excitedly about how they'd got rid of the chupacabra, and found Derek and Stiles in the kitchen laughing and talking together.

"Don't you two paint a lovely picture? Pack mothers are necessary for a pack's basic care, but I don't think I've heard of two before," Peter said with a smirk.

"Fuck you, Peter," Stiles called over his shoulder.

"No, but thank you for the kind offer. I couldn't possibly do that to my nephew's beloved pack mate."

"Fuck off, Peter," Derek muttered, moving to help Stiles get the meatloaf out of the oven before he burnt them.

"Still, no. That smells delicious," Peter said, glancing over the kitchen island to see the dish before it was hacked into and destroyed.

"Oh, fuck," Stiles hissed, his hand slipping from the tea towel and touching the edge of the dish for a fraction too long.

Derek had both of their hands under cold water before anyone could really process what had happened, and inspected Stiles' hand to ensure he wouldn't blister.

"Thanks," Stiles said, smiling at him warmly.

Derek smiled back at him, and Scott felt awkward enough that he decided to serve up his own dinner while they were standing there with their hands clasped under the tap.

...

The witch had returned to Beacon Hills, and somehow, Stiles was the only one that knew about it. Sure, the crazy bitch had kidnapped him, but he thought he'd seen her the day before too, and Stiles had stupidly not told anyone about it. She was in the process of torturing him, trying to physically retrieve the magic she'd done on him, and all Stiles could think of was what Derek must be going through. He must be going insane, all of these injuries coming and disappearing on his body, not knowing why. 

Stiles kind of hoped that Derek was still healing from these things, because this witch was fucking insane, and while she hadn't doused everything in wolfsbane and mistletoe, she was making sure that the wounds on Stiles' body stayed open as she kept trying to shove her freaking hand into his body. (There was a bluish glow to her hand that made Stiles think she was trying to to reach further than his organs, to a place she had no place being, the fucking bitch.) He'd seen a sword by the door when she dragged him inside, and seriously hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with that thing too. It was etched with symbols that glowed along with her hand, and that was a giant glass of  _nope!_

He was kept upright and stuck on the spot with two different spells, and Stiles was kind of sick of magic right now. He tried to remember what Deaton had said about his spark, about imagining something to make it happen, but Stiles was exhausted and he'd already lost so much blood. He felt woozy and lightheaded, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was coming from him or Derek.

Stiles was pretty certain that the next time Witchy McBitchy shoved her freaky-ass glowing hand in his chest, he wouldn't be able to come back from it. And she probably knew it too. She was smeared with his blood but smiling like a maniac, and he kind of regretted that he hadn't let Derek kill her the first time around.

Then Stiles heard the most wonderful sound in the world: Derek's howl. He could tell it was Derek's because he could feel the thing reverberating in his own chest, and he fucking loved that feeling right about now.

" _My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in trouble_ ," Stiles sang weakly.

He laughed between wheezing breaths as the witch flinched at Derek's howl, both of them realising how close he was.

Then the witch grabbed the sword, and oh, looked like he was going to have to drink that glass of nope after all, 'cause she was crazy eyed and circled around him, hands tight on the sword's hilt. Stiles didn't really have time to take a breath, because the sword was plunged through his chest a second later, and he still felt weak from blood loss, his body twisting this way and that as he struggled to keep upright. At least the sword wasn't glowing; that was a good thing, though Stiles didn't know how he knew.

Stiles heard a small gasp, and looked across the room to see Derek fall to his knees, blood spreading across his chest. Behind him, the witch laughed into his ear, and shoved Stiles forward onto the floor. She made her way over to Derek, a dagger in one hand, and mountain ash trickling out of her other blood-soaked palm. She threw a handful at Derek, the mountain ash landing in a perfect circle around him. The witch stepped over the boundary easily, and held Derek's head out of reach as she plunged the dagger right into the wound matching Stiles' one.

They screamed as the sword and dagger both glowed brightly, pain filling their bodies as she began to retrieve her hex forcefully. The witch just smiled, her face splattered with his blood, and Stiles fought to try and pull the sword out of his back. The witch was preoccupied with keeping Derek still and didn't notice, and though he could barely feel his own fingertips, Stiles still managed to close his fingers around the blade of the sword.

Feelings began to swell up inside of him, and they weren't his because Stiles was too numb to feel; he couldn't feel the edge of the sword biting into his fingers as he slowly tugged it out. He could feel all of Derek's feeling of anger, worry, grief, pride, gratitude, disbelief, honour, respect, love. Fucking hell, the last one almost had Stiles weeping. Derek had so much love woven into everything, even his grief and disbelief, that it felt like everything Derek had ever felt stemmed from that one emotion. And Stiles could believe that.

He'd felt Derek's emotions over the past few weeks, felt his guilt if he so much as stubbed his toe (which yeah, sure, it hurt like crazy, but the amount of guilt he exuded was ridiculous), and Stiles was 100% certain that everything Derek had ever done really did stem from love. Family, friends, pack, whatever they were to each other ('cause Peter might tease them about being the pack mothers now - and seriously, fuck you, Peter - but they were more than even that), all of it was based in the overwhelming feeling that Stiles felt right now. He tried to return it, tried to make himself feel past the numbness to give it back, but if he did that, then he wouldn't be able to focus on getting the sword out of his back, and he was almost there. So, Stiles told himself that Derek already knew the truth about them anyway, and put the last of his concentration towards the sword.

The witch was sneering at Derek as he kept her attention on him, trying to move his head to bite her and distract her from Stiles, when the dagger in his chest stopped glowing and she let out a scream. Derek hadn't known what to expect, honestly, but for the witch to let out a blood-curdling scream, scramble back over the line of mountain ash, glow the same blue that the sword and dagger had been, and collapse on the floor dead all in a matter of seconds was definitely not it. Derek let out a howl for Scott to find them, running over to Stiles who was breathing weakly on the floor, the bloodied sword lying beside him.

"Fuck, Stiles. Fuck, hold this," Derek said, tearing off his shirt and pressing it over the wound in Stiles' chest. He had no idea if it would help with the amount of blood that was already on the floor, but he had to try.

"If it's not your dick, I'm not interested," Stiles joked weakly.

"Of course you'd make dick jokes while you're dying. Idiot," Derek muttered. He wasn't crying, he wasn't.

"Not dying. Haven't had sex with you yet, can't die 'fore that," Stiles said, sounding as petulant as possible with half of his blood on the warehouse floor.

"Of course. Stupid of me to think otherwise," Derek muttered, trying not to focus on the feeling of warm blood pooling on his thighs from Stiles' back. He would survive this, they both would.

"Why's it always warehouses? Why can't they set up somewhere warm and not so decrepit?"

"Atmospheric tension?" he suggested.

"Oh, I like that. Hey, Scotty's here," Stiles said with a brief grin. "Scott, bro, I think you'll have to bite me. I'm like a minute away from death. Maybe... less," he wheezed.

Scott just nodded, sank to his knees and bit Stiles' side immediately. Derek held Stiles and refused to let go, even when the rest of the pack showed up and Stiles' heart stopped beating.

...

"I can feel you being all broody over there, sourwolf. Stop it."

"The hex was removed, you can't feel a thing I'm feeling," Derek replied, moving from the visitor's chair to sit beside Stiles' hospital bed.

Stiles snorted. "Well, I can see you being broody then. It's the eyebrows. If I see a single guilt-ridden eyebrow, I'm going to kick you."

Derek just raised an eyebrow at him and didn't reply. Stiles grinned, and took Derek's hand in his own. He looked much healthier than he had in months, honestly. With the extent of his initial injuries, the doctor's had refused to let Stiles leave. It was handy having Melissa in the hospital because she refused to let any of the other nurses look after Stiles, something that John hurried to agree to when he realised that Stiles had been turned to save his life. Stiles had visitors every day, even Peter on occasion despite the fact that the older wolf loathed hospitals, and he had a stack of get well cards around the room.

The rest of the pack had been there when Stiles found out that his eyes glowed blue, and while he'd submitted to Scott as Alpha, there was still something between him and Derek that no one could deny. (Which made Peter as smug as all hell, asshole.)

"Hey, after everything that's happened, I forgot to ask you something very important," Stiles said, his grin slipping way to a more serious expression.

"What?" Derek asked, frowning. "If this is about sex, I can tell you right now that we're not doing a thing until after you're released from hospital."

"It's nice to know what you've got on your mind, but that's not what I was going to ask. Idiot," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Derek reddened, but Stiles squeezed his hand and grinned at him.

"Right, so what's your question?" Derek prompted.

"How the hell do you know my first name?" Stiles demanded.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
